“Really.” Trent narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you can kill a man?”
“If I can’t kill a man, now...” Josh spoke as if carrying out his plan was the only way to redeem himself. Trent was damned if he didn’t agree.
Manoukian nodded. “Josh is right. It’s our best chance, Mr. Smith. Soriah will let us in, and most likely, his security team will confine you. Thinking he’s out of danger, he’ll let his guard down, and Josh will have an opportunity.”
Trent lowered his brow. “I’m not so sure I trust either of you assholes.”
“It’s our best chance,” Manoukian said again.
Trent remained silent for several moments. He recalled his conversation at Rick’s Coffee Shop that very morning. He remembered Samantha’s last words and the promise he failed to make. Then he looked at Josh and said, “I’ll do it for Samantha.”
* * * *
The flight from Minneapolis to Bemidji was short, but for Trent it wasn’t sweet. The tension during the trip precluded dialogue. When the private jet landed, an Eternity Labs chauffeur greeted them. “Hello, Dennis,” Manoukian said. Trent noted that Manoukian acted like he knew the chauffeur.
The chauffeur responded, “Good evening, Mr. Manoukian. Gentlemen.” His blue coat reminded Trent of the one he borrowed in New York City, although it had no tails and no matching hat.
During the long drive, Manoukian explained the lab’s security procedures and its multi-faceted physical layout. Trent saw that Josh listened only intermittently. He figured it was because Josh was already familiar with the complex, and once he was close enough, his heavily muscled physique could snap Soriah’s fragile neck in an instant.
Trent, on the other hand, sponged the information and tried his best to envision the different wings as Manoukian described them. He had no intention of letting himself be captured so readily, nor did he expect to receive help from Manoukian or Josh when he’d need it the most. He would trust no one at the end of this road.
* * * *
Inside the executive suite at Eternity Labs, Abraham Soriah sat with Charles Morgan, and their eyes were fixed on dual monitors behind opened panels in the wall. They were watching images of an ivory limousine bouncing its way over a winding dirt road. Abraham said, “I have to hand it to you, Charles. It’s unfolding just as you predicted.”
Charles firmed his mouth. “I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Now, Charles. Trent Smith is one man against six Specials. Then there’s our entire security force, and you know how Toka feels. You don’t expect him to beat those odds.”
“I put nothing past him.”
“And our ace in the hole?”
“It’s a bad idea.”
Abraham turned off the monitor, after which descending panels closed off the wall. “I appreciate your sentiment, Charles, but if he was present when Benson died, as you say... Well, we can’t pass on this opportunity.”
* * * *
The limousine stopped at the front gate, which was manned by two guards in the security tower. From his seat in the limo, Trent observed a fair-haired security guard reach through the tower’s first floor window and receive a magnetic card from the driver. At the same time, the other security guard emerged from the tower. He was a black-haired brute who looked very much like the swarthy types Trent had been running into lately. The guard opened the limo’s passenger door, looked at Manoukian, and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but the three of you will have to step outside the vehicle. Mr. Soriah’s orders.” He spoke with an accent and Trent recognized it. The secretary in the Transamerica building spoke like that. And to a lesser degree, so did Manoukian.
The guard passed a metal-scanning wand over their bodies, and while doing so, Manoukian slipped him a very small electronic object. Trent spied the awkward maneuver. He guessed it was some kind of microchip but decided to say nothing, as Manoukian and Josh were returning to the limo.
When Trent stepped inside, the blue-clad bruiser stopped him with a grip of his arm. Trent exchanged a long stare with the guard and planned a move that would disable him. It wasn’t lost on Trent, however, that if he started fighting now, he may never get inside the facility.
As Trent struggled with the quandary, the guard tossed a glance to Manoukian. Trent noticed Manoukian shake his head. It was a quick and fleeting shake, as if Manoukian was trying to signal the guard to avoid a confrontation. The scowling guard looked back at Trent and released him. Trent swiped his hand over his offended appendage and then resumed his seat. He was relieved for the postponed conflict. Apparently, Manoukian still had some pull with the laboratory guards. Or was it just this one?
The chauffeur drove into the complex, parked next to the hub, and opened the passenger door. Trent stepped out and witnessed the parting of the lobby’s all-glass entrance. It was Charles Morgan who emerged, accompanied by a half dozen black-suited titans. Trent appreciated the fact that, unlike the surly guard at the gate, none of them even remotely resembled the dark behemoths he had been fighting the past two days.
“Mr. Soriah welcomes you,” Charles said. He looked at Trent with eyes that were both gracious and wary.
Josh and Manoukian stepped next from the limo, and Josh commented, “This is some welcoming committee.”
“It is,” Charles agreed. “If you’ll come with me, please.”
Trent noted that half of the lofty ushers walked ahead of them, and half behind. Charles walked next to Manoukian, who asked, “May I visit my office before we see Abraham?”
“Of course,” Charles answered.
They crossed the lobby and detoured into B Wing. Charles entered Soriah’s office, and the men following took positions astride the entrance. The men in front took positions at Manoukian’s door opposite the hall. Trent followed Manoukian into his office with Josh and watched him flip through collected papers and power up his computer.
“It’s true,” Manoukian said. “All classified sites are off line. I still have email, but otherwise, the computers are useless.”
“The hell with the computers,” Josh grumbled. “When are we going to meet with Soriah?”
“Right now,” a uniformed colossus said at the doorway. He was a Pacific Islander nearly as tall as Charles, but much heavier. Muscles corded his neck, and his massive torso forced him to enter the room sideways. He wore the dark blue threads of security, and multiple emblems signified a rank of command. Dark eyes seethed in his full, brown face, and Trent could have sworn he was a twin of the bodyguard he killed at the club in Manhattan.
“Hello, Mr. Manoukian,” the blue-clad giant said in a heavy voice. Then, he looked eye to eye with Josh and extended his hand. “It’s been a while.”
Josh shook his hand and said, “Hello, Toka.”
The gigantic Polynesian lowered a glare to the much shorter Trent. His features contorted, and he snarled in a low, disapproving tone, “You must be Trent Smith.”
Trent remained aloof. “Yeah.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” He jutted out his hand and gripped Trent’s in a vise, but Trent gave him a grip in return. It was a deadlock, and Trent knew he could endure it indefinitely. He was trained to neutralize a handshake intended to be harmful and how to counter it if he chose to do so.
Appearing surprised by the stalemate, the Samoan squeezed even harder, and at the same time said, “My name is Toka Tacau, and I’m the security chief here at Eternity Labs.”
Trent replied, “With a get up like that, what else could you be?”
“Topu was my brother,” the security chief growled.
“So what,” Trent said.
“So what? Why you...”
The electronic voice of Abraham Soriah interrupted the exchange. Bzzzt. “Please escort our visitors to my office, Mr. Tacau, if you don’t mind.” Bzzzt.
The message was clear, but the loud buzzing evidenced an intercom malfunction growing worse by each word.
The security chief released Trent’s hand and
responded, “Right away, Mr. Soriah.” He resumed his spite-filled glare at Trent and hissed, “I’m not finished with you, Smith.”
Trent responded, “Neither was your brother.”
Toka’s face turned purple and twisted into an ugly mass of lumps. “If I didn’t have to follow orders, I’d—”
“You’d what?” Trent jeered. “Chumps have to follow orders, like you and your dead brother. So follow your orders, chump.”
With that, Toka charged Trent in a murderous fury. Trent braced himself for an Ogoshi. He turned his body and threw the Samoan over his hip, using the man’s size and momentum as leverage.
Upended by the hip throw, Toka slammed into the wall and dropped headfirst to the floor. He leaped to his feet, his face twisted in rage, and charged again. This time Trent charged him, also, with a full force front kick that caught the surprised security chief square in his solar plexus. It sent him back and over Manoukian’s desk, knocking down the computer, which crashed to the floor amidst whipping cords, leaping notepads, and flying papers.
Toka couldn’t stand up because he couldn’t breathe. Trent knew he had knocked the wind out of the giant Polynesian, and watched him hunch over his knee, trying to refill his lungs by strength of will alone.
Meanwhile, Trent waited with his feet spread, his knees bent, and his fists clenched, hoping for a third round. But then three of the black-suited Specials rushed single file through the door. Another half dozen security guards, all big and burly, followed. Mouths agape, Josh and Manoukian stood aside and made no effort to hinder the human stampede.
Trent was not so relenting. He refused to be taken quickly or easily. The black suits reached him first, but a front jump-kick to the midsection of the first man put him on all fours, gasping for air. Trent followed with a forceful side-kick to the knee of the second man, which tore the anterior cruciate and medial collateral ligaments, leaving him disabled and screaming in pain. The third man, hustling between the first two, received a pop up back-kick, which sent him reeling into the onrushing security team.
The first three blue-shirts took the brunt of the toppling Special, whose large body impeded their progress. Trent, however, didn’t waste a moment. He blasted straight through the disoriented security guards, pelting them in all directions and out of his way.
In the main hallway, Trent found himself face to face with the men guarding Soriah’s door. For a second, he thought about taking them on. Handguns pulled from within their coats dispelled the notion. Instead, he darted through the lobby and into the main lab where he encountered the two Chinese specialists Samantha had mentioned during their talk that night in his hotel room. “What’s going on?” one of them asked.
“Ask them,” Trent answered, tilting his head toward the quivering doors. He knew a posse would plow through them any moment, so he dashed across the room and past the doors that led to A Wing.
* * * *
In a rage, Toka, with his security team, burst into the main lab. Viewing only the two Asian scientists, he removed the radio from his belt and hollered, “Base, are you tracking him? Where did he go?”
“We’ve lost the cameras,” a voice responded. “All surveillance is off line.”
“Fuck!” Toka roared with his face to the ceiling. Again, he put the radio to his mouth. “Well, get them back on line and call me when they’re working.”
Returning his radio to its holster, he glared at the pair of doctors and bellowed, “Which way did he go?”
A trembling Dr. Lee pointed at the A Wing doors.
* * * *
Several seconds passed, and Trent was sure he’d put some distance between himself and his many pursuers. It was his intention to unveil as much of the complex as he could. He entered a large office containing several young women sitting behind desks arranged in rows. Trent slowed to cross at the head of the room, and as the women ogled him, Soriah’s electronic voice sounded over the malfunctioning intercom. Bzzzt! “We have an intruder.” Bzzzzt! “If you see anyone who looks suspicious, call security imme—” Bvvsst! The system went dead, and the room fell silent.
The women looked at each other and then back at Trent. No one seemed willing to speak until a pretty brunette inquired, “Are you the suspicious guy they’re talking about?”
“Who, me?” Trent asked. “Do I look suspicious to you?”
“No,” she answered. “You’re kinda cute.”
“Um... Thank you.”
The young woman smiled. “I’m Debra.”
“Well, then. I’m pleased to meet you, Debra.”
“And this is Betty,” she added with a gesture to the young woman sitting at the desk next to hers.
“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too, Betty.”
Betty smiled with a blush, and then remarked, “Say, I know who you are.”
On edge, Trent responded, “You do?”
“Sure, you’re one of the inspectors!”
“Uh, yeah, that’s right.”
“So, where’s your lab coat?”
From the adjacent room, the sound of stomping feet convinced Trent to cut his reply to “Gotta go,” and he bolted though the opposite doors.
* * * *
Debra was still thinking about the pleasant inspector when the doors to the word processing room burst open and the giant chief of security rushed in. His entire support team followed. Most were bent over, panting with their hands on their knees. Debra and her fellow secretaries sat startled and silent as a result of the disturbance. The security chief took a moment to pan the room, and then he hollered, “Did he come this way?”
Debra asked, “Do you mean the inspector?”
The chief exploded, “Which way did he go?”
Debra pointed at the far doors, and the chief and his guards hustled away. Once the doors sealed behind them, Debra commented, “What a rude man. I like the inspector much better.”
“Mm-hhmm,” Betty agreed. “He can inspect me, anytime.”
The room filled with laughter, after which Debra and her co-workers decided the distraction had passed and it was time to get back to work.
* * * *
Pressing forward, Trent slipped into a large electronics room containing massive computers that spanned the length of the floor. He had never seen computers so big, except in movies or in old TV shows. The constant buzz of moving mechanics assailed him from every direction. Two technicians wearing white lab coats were the only workers present. One of them asked, “Are you the guy they’re chasing?”
“I’m the inspector,” Trent answered. “Would you mind telling me how to get back to the hub?”
“Just go back the way you came.”
Trent turned his head toward the doors through which he came. He had no doubt that Toka and his security team would be busting through them in the next few seconds. “Is there another way?”
“You can go through these doors here.” The technician gestured to a set of double doors on the side wall. “They lead back to the main entrance.”
Trent recalled that each room through which he passed had a pair of doors located on its respective wall. “Do all the rooms have that alternate route?”
“Yeah, it’s a fire exit. One way leads to the end of the wing, and the other way goes back to the hub.”
“Thanks,” Trent said. He darted through the doors and headed up the narrow corridor. While doing so, he noted additional doors evenly spaced and likewise located. At any moment, a security team might cut him off, and his excursion would be ended.
Seeking a solution, Trent spotted air ducts lined against the ceiling. The square-shaped tunnels were wide enough to accommodate an average-sized body. Jumping up, he held on with one hand, and with the other, swung open the mesh flap. He squeezed in feet first and re-secured the grill.
* * * *
In the executive suite, Charles watched his aged mentor sitting behind his desk with a phone to his ear. Karl Manoukian and Josh Jones sat opposite him. Charles was perched to the side.
To the security men on the other end of the telephone line, Abraham was concluding his response to their report. “Very well, then, proceed with utmost expediency.” He put down the phone, and to Manoukian, he said, “In addition to the intercom failure, it seems our cameras have been sabotaged. That means for the time being we’re blind as well as deaf and dumb.”
Manoukian seemed uninterested in the facility’s malfunction. “What about Eternity?” he asked. “That’s why you wanted to meet, is it not?”
“Yes and no,” Abraham replied. “It’s true we have a crisis on our hands regarding Eternity, but there is something more important we must resolve.”
“What can be more important,” Manoukian asked, “than salvaging the project on which I’ve exhausted my entire fortune?”
The men exchanged stares for a tense moment, and then Abraham said, “We must amend our partnership in Soriah Enterprises.”
“Partnership?” Manoukian cried out. “Is that what you call it?”
“Whatever you want to call it,” Abraham answered. “After tonight, it’s going to be nullified.”
“Nullified? You can’t do that.”
“Oh, but I can. I have eyewitnesses and documentation that you have been conspiring against me for quite some time.” Abraham clasped his hands together as a trio of his Specials entered the room and took positions—one in front of his desk, and the other two at either end of it.
Manoukian widened his eyes. Then he relaxed and smiled. “Eyewitnesses? You’d better ask Josh about that.”
Abraham turned to Josh. “What is he talking about?”
“You sent Specials to kill Trent Smith,” Josh gnarled. “But the damn fools killed my sister, instead!”
“You’re deluded,” Abraham responded. “I never sent Specials to kill anyone.” He turned to Charles. “Do you know anything about this?”
Charles shook his head. “No orders came from my desk.” He looked at Josh. “You know we don’t operate like that.”
“Then who were the men that killed my sister?” Josh shouted.
“I had nothing to do with it!” Abraham shouted back.
“Wait a minute!” Charles shouted the loudest of all. “What did they look like?” He was suspecting a connection with the Turks at Susie’s apartment.
Killer of Killers Page 24